


Standard “Ancom beats up a fascist” fic

by mischemical



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Gen, I continually project onto Ancom, Mentions of blood and knives but not too graphic I don’t think, Nazi misgenders Ancom because he’s annoying, This totally sucks I’m sorry, it’s not really graphic but I’m paranoid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25732693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischemical/pseuds/mischemical
Summary: This one’s all the terrible stereotypes. There’s Tankie there though so that makes it slightly better.
Relationships: Future Leftunity
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	Standard “Ancom beats up a fascist” fic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [comrade_fidel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comrade_fidel/gifts).



> I’m sorry about how terrible this is. I literally wrote it at like 4am and it’s so stereotypical it hurts but I’m kind of hoping it doesn’t suck as much as I think it does. 
> 
> Please tell me if I mess up Ancom’s pronouns. Subtitles said quee/quem but I think most people use qui/quem.

Most of the Russian in this is stuff I’ve picked up from my best friend so I’m sorry if it’s wrong

Ancom took off quis headphones, and immediately heard Nazi screech about Kropotkin knows what. He probably got killed in Call of Duty or something. It was almost laughable for a man who talked about genocide so often to suck so much at a video game about war.

Qui rolled quis eyes, and grabbed quis bat. Time to bash some fash skulls, qui thought.

The streetlights provided a dull addition to the night sky as Ancom stepped out of the door. Qui clenched quis bat tightly- it wouldn’t be the first time qui got attacked while wandering around, after all. It could be the bandana, or the pride stickers peeling off of quis bat that drew people’s attention. Qui was never sure.

Qui leaned against the wall, quis heart pounding. Qui didn’t beat up fascists for the fun of it, but the pure adrenaline coursing through quis veins was enough to make quem think that maybe qui did enjoy it, after all. Just a bit.

“Take that, Nazi scum!” Qui’s bat collided with the stranger’s skull with a satisfying crack. The stranger looked really, really annoyed now. A machete glinted in the dim moonlight, and Ancom realised just how much qui’d fucked up.

Qui wished qui had Tankie’s strength, or Ancap’s persuasive ability. Hell, qui even wished for Nazi’s stubbornness if it meant qui wouldn’t get stabbed at that very moment.

“Anarkitty? Christ, vhat did you get yourself into this time?” Qui was too disoriented to reply to the person speaking to quem, and instead opted for a half-hearted groan. Qui pressed a hand to quis stomach, just to find blood on quis fingertips.

Fuck. That’s not normal.

Qui almost kicked quemself for passing out during a fight. The iron deficiency combined with the caffeine addiction meant that quis sleep pattern was far from normal. Qui’d have to clean quemself up later. A hospital was out of the question. Too many invasive questions, and since murder of fascists was, technically, kind of illegal, qui preferred to stay under the radar a bit.

“I keep telling you not to run off like that, but you never listen! Are you even listening right now?” Well, shit. Ancom had almost entirely forgotten what Tankie was going on about.

Qui felt quemself being lifted into Tankie’s arms and immediately relaxed. Qui wasn’t sure what it was about Tankie, but something about him made quem feel safe.

When they arrived at the house, Nazi was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for them. He smirked slightly when he saw the blood staining Ancom’s hoodie and, now, Tankie’s jacket.

“So, the moron got himself beaten up again. Good. I was tired of his incessant whining anyway. Maybe this time he’ll learn to shut up and take it like a man.”

Tankie mentally reminded himself to destroy Nazi’s bedroom when he next had the chance. He could do with some more of the people’s artwork, anyway. But at that moment, Ancom was the only thing on his mind. Revenge could come later.

“It’s okay, Tankie. ‘M fine. Just a scratch, that’s all.”

“Anarkitty, this is serious, да?. You could have died, and I can’t let a comrade suffer.”

“Fine. Just make it quick. I still have other fascists to beat up later.”

Tankie admired Ancom’s commitment to quis cause, but couldn’t help thinking it would get quem killed one day.

Ancom watched Tankie clean quis wounds with gentle precision. Qui passionately hated being in debt to someone. When it came to money, qui didn’t care- who needs it anyway? But feeling as though someone cared about quis safety? Qui couldn’t stand it.

Tankie stood up, hopelessly attempting to clean his shirt up a bit.

“I think we’re done here, Anarkitty. Don’t do that again.”

“Thanks, I guess. See you around, Tankie.” Ancom wanted to dig quemself into a hole and stay there. Qui wasn’t used to people being kind to quem, seeing as the most human interaction qui got was yelling at strangers on the internet.

As Ancom pushed quis bedroom door open, qui hesitated. Although qui disagreed with the communist in several ways (on one notable occasion they spent seven hours arguing about why qui wouldn’t read political theory), qui had to admit that Tankie was the closest thing to a friend qui had in the Centricide house.

“Hey...uhh...Tankie? Do you want to watch a film or something?”


End file.
